


Love After Death

by Mistykins06



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, People do silly things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3801823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistykins06/pseuds/Mistykins06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a silly thing to do. She knew that. But still... it seemed like the perfect thing to do. Something he would have understood the irony of immensely. And after all, people did silly things all the time didn't they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love After Death

It was a silly thing to do. She knew that. But still... It seemed like the perfect thing to do. Something, he would have understood the irony of immensely. And after all, people did silly things all the time didn't they?

In the hours that came after the Fall off of St Bart's, the ghost of a man once named Sherlock Holmes entered the flat that Molly Hooper leased. When dawn broke the next morning, a different far more non-discript man slunk out the door unnoticed by all save the cities homeless, to whom the man gave each a bill and a note of instruction.

When Molly Hooper awoke, alone and undressed in her bed, she broke down. He'd gone. Of course, she'd known he would, but still...he had not woken her to say goodbye, he'd left no note, not even a shirt. There was nothing tangible to remind herself that she hadn't let her imagination run away with her and that the last 48 hours had really happened.

When she finally gave in to her body's demands and went to the bath she found something he'd left behind. Whether it been intentional or not she really didn't know, but there on the counter of the bath lay a jumble of newly shorn curls.

Molly attempted a small smile and tried to envision what Sherlock now looked like without his signature curls, but her mind failed as her hand reached out and felt their softness. Just last night she'd finally gotten to run her fingers through them, delighting in how soft they felt. How he'd enjoyed it nearly more than she had. Now though, the curls lay, just as lifeless as he supposedly was...

She went to her desk in the bedroom and pulled out an envelope then returned to the bath, and with scientific precision lifted the curls and placed them in and sealed the envelope making plans to call an old friend in a day or two. Then, she went back to bed and wept for the remainder of the day. After all she was mourning a man who was gone.

The days and weeks passed by and Molly Hooper began to live again. Work provided a steady routine that helped her take each day as it came. A familiar routine to settle her. She supposed it had helped that no one even assumed that she had a secret to hide, they weren't even all that careful about speaking of that 'arrogant fake' that used to parade around the labs and then jumped off the roof. A few would even dare tease that she must be glad that he was out of her hair. Each time Molly would resist the urge to punch them in the face and would tell them that he had been her friend and that she was sorry that he was gone and to leave immediately. They would look at her strangely and she found she didn't care in the slightest.

The incident repeated itself for the umpteenth time and Molly was not having it. It had already been a strained day after Lestrade visited and Molly was ready to hurt someone. She called her supervisor and told them that she wasn't feeling well and needed to leave. Once out the hospital, she saw a familiar car approach the kurb and braced herself for yet another trial to face today. The black car parked and the driver quickly jumped out to open the door to the back for her. Immediately after she sat down he car took back off.

"I hope you intend to at least take me to my flat when we've completed our business, Mycroft." Molly said staring straight forward.

"We shall see Ms Hooper. Now let's not play games shall we? Let me see it."

"See what?" Molly asked confused.

Mycroft sighed heavily and warily. "The pendant Molly."

Molly's head snapped to the man sitting beside her, then slammed her eyes shut. It was no use trying to have a secret from a Holmes after all. Without a word she reached behind her neck and pulled the long silver chain sitting under her shirt the lifted it over her head. She held it a moment and looked at the oval pendant with etching for a single moment before handing it over without a word.

Mycroft held the necklace, almost as if he was testing it's weight before he tuned it over this way and that, examining and studying each of the necklaces ancient flourishes before nimbly twisting at it's lock. It popped open revealing it's secrets to him. A skull. A skull fashioned out of Sherlock's hair and enclosed in glass.

Molly watched, not realizing that she was holding her breath as she waited to see his reaction. Mourning jewelry was considered taboo. It was strange to keep a part of someone you'd lost. Creepy to have had something made from their hair. Morbid to wear of daily, close by her heart. The situation was only made stranger by the fact that the man she mourned wasn't even dead. He was only pretending to be. But there sat the only two people to know for sure he was alive, and even then only one.

"It's exquisite. I think he would have Approved of the style." Mycroft finally said.

'Would have'... It echoed in Molly's head making her throat ache and her chest tighten. He was gone. Truly gone. "Please don't mistake me Ms. Hooper. I still do not approve of this... Well, frankly trite, Victorian and therefore antiquated token of sentimental remembrance, but I do take comfort in knowing that my brothers memory is still alive in your heart." The flowery speech didn't surprise her, but the hand that gripped her own as it was returning the necklace particularly on to emphasize certain words. Which Molly worked out quickly. 'Dont mistake me. My brothers still alive.' Eased her considerably. She was able to breath once more.

"I'm umm.. so glad to hear that...you understand me Mr. Holmes." She responded as she held the pendant on her hand.

"Sentiment, I find is often unessential Ms. Hooper, but I hope you know that I value those my brother cared about and trusted. It means a great deal to me all that you did for him, all that you still do to help clear his name."

The car had reached the familiar address of Molly's flat. "Thank you for the lift Mycroft. Take care."

"You as well Ms Hooper."

When Sherlock Holmes resumed being Sherlock Holmes, he came back to a changed world. Time had marched on and his place in the lives of those he was closest to had been shifted, and yet being Sherlock Holmes meant that he still needed them as he always had. Lestrade for cases, Mrs Hudson for care, John for companionship and Molly for... a safe place to stay on rough nights.

It was on the morning after one such night that Sherlock found himself awake in Molly's bed. He'd been on the lamb from the reporters and had sought refugee at her warm flat. As he awoke he observed the room with his meticulous observations. Out of curiosity he picked up the necklace that Molly had sitting my the clock on the nightstand and not with her other meticulously put away pieces.

Twirling it about he studied the etching and read amongst the elaborate scrolling 'Semper Reputabitur' : Always Counted. That caught his attention. Paying a closer look to the pendant he saw it was a hidden locket. Finding it's clever release the pendant swung open, revealing a profile of a skull made from hair. That was his hair. His words. Placing the locket back just as it had been. Sherlock fell back against the pillow. Trying to come to terms with how he felt about a woman who wore his words around her neck but another mans ring on her finger.

The ring is gone. He could smile, but one look at the rage on her face and he knows this case is going to cost him far more than his professional reputation. The slaps she gives are almost welcome relief. Anything, if helps her get her anger out against him. Not like she could hurt him, at least not physically. However, watching her faith in him disappear like mist was agony.

He was going to make this up to her, show her just what he thought of her engagement being over. He'd pee in a damn cup everyday if that's what it took to let him have a place in her life. First he had to finish securing Magnussen's attention, then he could stop feigning romance with Janine and then the moment he was free he'd march into her flat and- a call vibrated in his hand. He excused himself with a grin as the game moved on.

She hadn't come. It been a long, long recovery and Molly Hooper had not been by to visit. Not even once.

It took nearly a week for the others to begin noticing that her presence was missing from his sterile hospital room. But Sherlock felt it. Longed for it, yet he couldn't bring himself to contact her to ask her to come. Each time he thought of her, the anger and disappointment she'd look at him with washed over him anew.

Tom's ring had been gone, but so too he was sure, was the chain around her neck.

It was Christmas Eve and a knock sounded softly on Molly Hooper's door. Her skin tingled as she fought off her desire for it to be Sherlock. And there he stood, leaner than he had been, but still so amazingly alive. Inspite of all he'd done to insure he'd not be. And Molly sagged as she moved to let him come in. The flat was a mess of wrappings and gifts and the warbled sounds of 'it's a wonderful life' played low behind her. He'd stepped in, seemingly unsure of where he belonged there.

"What brought you by tonight Sherlock?" She asked looking just over his Shoulder, afraid to meet his eyes.

"I... Have something for you. A gift. For Christmas." Sweeping his arm he pulled a small box from his interior pocket and extending it to her. Molly eyed it but made no move towards it. Sherlock watched as brown eyes swept back and forth between his hands and his face. "Well go on."

"I wasn't anticipating seeing you. I don't have anything-"

"No, I didn't suspect you would. There's no need to feel odd." He extended the box further towards her. "Please just take it?"One final glance up and she reached out and pulled if from his hand. Careful not to make contact with him he noted. "Good. Now you open it."

Huffing she's opened the maroon box and let out a small gasp. "Sherlock..." Molly's eyes stayed on his face as her fingers slid between the seal of the paper, as if fell away she looked down and noticed that it was a jewelry box in her hand. Eyes flashing up again.

"It seems you've decided that your previous necklace isn't something you wish to wear any longer. And I wanted you to know it's okay not too. That it's okay too. In fact it is wise to let that-"

"You think I don't wear it because I've given up on you?" She asked quietly. "In case you forgot, you got high Sherlock. Then because that wasn't reckless enough you got shot. On the same damn day! And you were dead. Literally, dead on that table. But you impossible man, no restarted your own heart and lived!

"And I realized how I had been mourning you: Away then home, then i felt like we almost... But I'd gone and made sure we wouldn't and then I mourned you again as an almost could have been but after you died, really died I realized... You're Alive! And I can't mourn you like you aren't. You are Sherlock Holmes, the one and only consulting pain in the ass detective. You don't do things like anyone else does and that's what makes you so special. So what if you don't have a conventional job, or that you don't eat when working or don't do love like the rest of us mere mortals. It it doesn't matter. You are you. And I have always, and will always believe in you and care about you.

But I refuse to spend another moment mourning you." She explained.

A sad half smile lit his face, relief and agony mixed with regret of wasted time. "Nor should you." He stepped forward. "But, please just open the box."

As soon as she saw the beautiful sterling engraved pendant she relaxed slightly. "Sherlock..." Molly ran her fingers over the much lighter engraved pendant. A skull with details and flowers. And the small phrase: Always.

"I thought you'd might, that you'd like something- if you have room in your." Stammering, Sherlock stopped and grimaced. "To hell with it." He reached out and pulled Molly's face to his own. Kissed her firmly and passionately before pulling his head back to look into her eyes.

"I hope you haven't given up on me entirely just yet."

Molly smiled endearingly up at him. "Never!" Before she pulled him back down to kiss once more.


End file.
